


Never One With Such Justice

by phezl



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phezl/pseuds/phezl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots in which Lizzie and Darcy are incredibly into each other, and other concerns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never One With Such Justice

Author's Note: This one-shot takes place between episode 98 and episode 99. Also, I did intend to write about them going to the park and having a moment, but it turns out they had one along the way. The last line and the title belong to Jane Austen.

Although dinner had passed with the same, though still surprising, success as family dinner the past two nights--i.e. no explicit references to massive wealth on one side and and no unthinking digs at her family on the other--Lizzie drags William out of the house without hesitation the minute Lydia graciously relieves her of any dishwashing obligations. No explicit references is being generous, and there are only so many deliberate winks(from her mother), wry smirks(her father) and intentionally unsubtle innuendos(Lydia) she is willing to suffer, especially when William, despite his valiant effort to be as comfortable with them as he can manage, has no idea how to handle it all.

It should be amusing that a man who can command a corporate board room with authority and ease flounders in the face of a quirky suburban family, but mostly it's just anxiety-producing. She would probably laugh at him if she wasn't worried his neck might permanently fix itself into its position of retreat, leaving him an awkward-turtle of a CEO forever. There's enough uncomfortable history on all sides that a comment that would be innocuous in any other context has the potential for, at best, awkwardness and, at worst, injured feelings.

She could write an entire thesis(although she doubts she has enough mental stamina to write her actual one) on the power of connotation. How words like robot and decent and energetic summon an entire collection of experiences, the way an old favorite song can remind her of exactly how she was feeling at that particular moment in her life. As different as Darcy is from her family, as different as everyone in her family can be from one another, they all have their own brand of pride that they would rather protect from further wounds. Maybe, Lizzie concedes, her mother's plan to have William over for dinner every night he is in town is not as convoluted, as manipulative as she might have accused her of in the past. Maybe, with each new interaction, the past becomes less of a specter haunting the room and more like the air, simply there, important but not obtrusive.

As much as she eventually wants her family and William to comfortably interact, however, what she is most interested in doing is creating as much new history with William as possible before they are forced to separate, yet again, for six torturous weeks. Eager for some peace and privacy, she pulls him along by the arm in the direction of Netherfield before an idea strikes her and she grinds unexpectedly to a halt. Without any warning, William doesn't have a chance to stop, so he tumbles into her, only preventing a fall by latching onto her shoulders to steady them both. As they catch their breath, he lifts an eyebrow, questioning.

She turns slightly, so she is standing directly in front of him, contained by his arms, and sets her hands on his hips.

"Do you want to see where I used to go when I needed space?"

She peers up at William and sees him offer her a smile.

"I would be glad to."

She smiles back.

"Great."

She renews her grip on his hand and gently tugs him in the opposite direction while continuing her train of thought.

"There's a small park about a mile away. It's a slightly more humble sanctuary than Netherfield, but I didn't always have my boyfriend's friend's gigantic mansion conveniently located down the road."

What Lizzie doesn't notice as she continues to guide their stroll through her neighborhood, what she would know if she rested her hand on his chest rather than keeping it snugly inside his own, is how her teasing comment has prompted William's heart to beat frantically, as though intent on staging a prison-break from his body. She is looking ahead, rather than up at him, so she cannot notice his moment of struggle in which he swallows down his burgeoning hope, closing his eyes for a brief second, in order refrain from blurting out the question he desperately needs to ask. He resolves to counts thirty agonizing seconds. He gives up at fifteen. She does hear him clear his throat.

"Erm. Lizzie?"

She glances up at him, content.

"Hmm?"

"I know it may have simply been a slip of the tongue, and I don't mean to pressure you into anything, or to make you uncomfortable, but…"

Lizzie is sure her face has contorted into a bemused expression, but she can't help it. This seems to make him a bit exasperated, at himself or the both of them, she isn't sure. He sighs before continuing.

"…But I could not help but notice you referred to me as your…boyfriend just now." Her body tenses against her will and she is sure he can feel it through their joined hands, which prompts her to apologize before he misunderstands.

\--"I'm sorry."

"Did you mean it?"

It seems they will never learn how to not talk over each other.

"Yes."

"You're sorry?"

Lizzie allows herself a sigh before she halts their progress along the sidewalk and begins to draw her free hand up and down his captured arm.

"Look, I know we're adults and people think the term is juvenile or whatever, but I think definitions are powerful, and I happen to appreciate all the mental schema that go along with them…"

She looks down the street as she talks, too embarrassed to look at him. Before she can finish he has reached out his free hand to cup her cheek and turn her face towards him.

Gazing at his earnest, stupidly handsome face, she reminds herself that he deserves the words she so freely gives everyone else, so she holds eye contact while she speaks.

"I know it may be an inadequate description for what this is, but I would like to call you my boyfriend. I know I have some catching up to do. You've wanted this longer than I have. But I meant what I said. I want to be with you. Only you. Indefinitely."

Rather than making her uncomfortable, revealing her feelings to him is invigorating. Giddiness suffuses throughout her body, as though released from internal emotional floodgates in response to her words. She will realize later, when he is flying back to San Francisco and she is left sitting in bed at Netherfield, aimlessly stroking the sheets on the now empty other side, that she was drunk on her love for him.

"I've made my mind up about you, William Darcy. We both know how much I hate changing my mind. I have absolutely no inclination to do it again."

She is met with the goofy no-teeth smile and the softened eyes that she has quickly come to understand mean he is experiencing pure joy. He kisses her, and she responds to his evident happiness and passion with equal fervor. William responds to her intensity by wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her close so that her entire body is pressed up against his own. It's been four days since her birthday, since the day they finally were able to act on their desire for one another, and she is beginning to realize her desire for William does not come and go. It's always there, a permanent part of her that lies in wait for the moments when she allows herself to be conscious of it. In order to prevent having to explain to the neighbors she has known her entire life who that man is that she is violently making out with in the middle of the street, Lizzie manages to convince herself to break the kiss before they lose themselves in a competition of demonstrating how into each other they are.

She rests her hands against his chest and his remain secured around her waist. William rests his head in the crook of her neck for a few moments, his warm breath tickling her skin, before he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with her.

"Lizzie, I must admit, though I would be willing and happy to continue to spend time with you without labeling our association, I much prefer knowing we both agree this is a relationship. I want to be able to call you my girlfriend. I…I hope you are aware I would even like for you to be more, some day."

She closes the small distance between them by wrapping herself tightly around his middle in a fierce hug. She isn't surprised by what he has said. They wouldn't be here right now if William Darcy wasn't committed to loving her. But she's never been great at facing the future. She knows herself well enough to understand that, as a self-professed worrier, developing the same kind of certainty about their relationship that she has about her goals and the virtues of those she cares about will take time. She owes it to him to have the same level of confidence in its future direction that he has had months to acquire. She pours her soul into the hug, trying to convey by the intensity of her grip how much she values him. She wouldn't be Lizzie Bennet, though, if she denied herself the opportunity to diffuse a serious moment with a joke.

Her face is pressed up against his chest as she mutters, "You're such a dork, William Darcy. Labeling our association. Honestly."

She is satisfied that her fondness has translated itself into her voice, assuring him that she is not making fun of him. That she likes his manner of speaking. That she likes him.

Even though she can't see it, he quirks an eyebrow before replying, "You used the words mental schema in casual conversation. I believe the phrase, Lizzie Bennet, is it takes one to know one."

As they continue toward their destination in silence, William considers what Lizzie said about the power of definitions. After months of uncertainty and longing, he finds himself wanting to collect as much proof that Lizzie Bennet has chosen him as possible. As though the act of calling her his girlfriend, of saving her text messages until they fill up his inbox, and of blocking off an hour on his calendar every day for the nightly phone call they've decided to start once he flies home will serve as a form of relationship insurance. That in case something goes wrong, he'll have enough evidence to convince her that they are significant to one another. That being together is worth fighting for.

He also appreciates, though he knows she might disapprove, the possessiveness of the label. Not because he wants Lizzie to belong to him. Not exactly. He just would like her to consider herself more his than anyone else's. All of his reasons for wanting to progress along their relationship as quickly as possible are permutations of his one real wish. Though he is grateful that she has come to return his feelings at all, he desperately wants her to feel for him what he feels for her.

He trusts Lizzie. He knows he simply needs to give it time, and soon enough they will be on the same page. But despite all the personal improvements he has made in the past year, he is still a Darcy, and he is unaccustomed to things not immediately going his way. He is a well educated man, but one thing he never learned is how to be patient. For Lizzie, of course he will wait, but that does not mean he won't do so anxiously. He is not even certain whether, had he been raised differently, he would suffer to a less acute degree. He has his doubts. It seems impossible for the prospect of being fully loved by Lizzie Bennet to be something for which he could easily wait. In this regard, he has no capacity for tranquil patience. Perhaps a man who felt less might.


End file.
